The Kind in Kindfulness

(continued from "My Journey into Kindfulness”)

There is no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have survived, let alone thrived, as a parent of two young children, without my mindfulness practice. However, what I learned while pregnant with and shortly after delivering my second child, Ayaan, truly allowed me to take my mindfulness practice to the next level.

I became pregnant with Ayaan when my older son, Zayn, was just a few months old. I was working a demanding full-time job and diligently putting together the pieces of my passion project (early days of Kindful Living), while raising a baby, working out 4-5 days a week, staying connected to my loved ones and still satisfying my passion for travel. Needless to say, keeping my head above water and maintaining balance was not easy, but it also wasn’t impossible.

Mindfulness gave me the tools to use, when I needed a few minutes, here and there, to ground in the present moment, to feel more energetic and refreshed without sleeping more, and to improve my focus and concentration. I often found myself immersed in breathwork, in between transitions from home and work, lost in visualizations as I showered and completed other routines and enchanted in my meditations (which I was completing at least 2x daily— upon waking up and shortly before going to sleep).

Working as a therapist, with children and families who have experienced significant trauma in their lives, is work that never ends. Although I had always been able to engage in adequate self-care to allow me to return to work, day in and day out, feeling refreshed, recharged and full of compassion again, once I became a mother, and especially during my second pregnancy, I found that my bucket was no longer feeling as full, and that it was harder for me to reset.

Mindfulness underlines the importance of being kind and compassionate with ourselves and others, by encouraging us to refrain from judgment and to remain grounded in the now (rather than worrying about the implications of what is going on now), thereby releasing expectations for the future, which are a source of pain for many. 

Yet, my mindfulness practice did not adequately prepare me for further constrictions on my already limited resources (time & energy) after I gave birth to my second child, rather prematurely.

Ayaan was born a few days short of 8 months, after I experienced a placental abruption. While getting ready to go to Zayn’s swimming class one Saturday morning, I began to bleed profusely and almost passed out from the amount of blood I lost, before I reached the hospital in an ambulance. Although Ayaan was born healthy and has exceeded every expectation imaginable, and despite doctors repeatedly telling me how lucky we were to have come home with a baby at all (since many babies do not survive a placental abruption), I was traumatized with what had happened, not to mention, in a very dire condition after a second emergency C-section.

The first few days home were trying for me, in every way imaginable, but what especially took a toll on me was feeling like an inadequate mother to Zayn, whom I barely spent any quality time with anymore, amidst taking care of myself and a premature baby. My partner did a wonderful job of supporting our family and Zayn, as he has since day one on daddy duty, but nonetheless, I felt like Zayn had been forced to forfeit his relationship with his mother prematurely. Although I found immense joy in and appreciation for the moments we enjoyed as a family, and time for self-care and to practise mindfulness (which often times were one and the same), I could not shake the mom guilt or respond to Ayaan in the loving and compassionate manner that I had related to with Zayn.

I couldn’t help but feel frustrated with Ayaan, who needed me even more than newborns already need their mother— to feed him, to relieve his gas, to change his diapers and to help him settle down. The cycle repeated every hour or two, and took an hour or two to complete, thereby leaving very little time for anything else. I cognitively understood premature babies had more needs, but this didn’t make it easier to respond to his needs—especially on a total of 2-3 hours of sleep a day.

While meditating one day, it dawned upon me that I was too caught up in expectations for and judgments of myself. I spoke with one of my mentors who encouraged me to set the default for my thoughts to gratitude. She also suggested that I refrain from measuring how I was doing as a mother, and as a person, by what I accomplished, and rather, to focus on my intentions and what was in my heart. A few days after beginning to focus on compassion and self-love, I began to laugh more, to feel more satisfied and whole, and most importantly perhaps, to beginning letting go.

I let go of the mom guilt I had harboured for weeks, the fear of what would become of my relationship with Zayn because I wasn’t able to spend as much 1:1 time with him as I wanted to. I let go of the resentment I harboured for Ayaan, who was nothing short of a miracle, a gift from the Almighty. I came to realize that my anger was actually a mask for the fear I felt, due to his untimely arrival, because I was worried about if I could take care of him well enough to enable him to thrive.

Self-love and self-compassion enabled me to practise mindfulness in a way that empowered me to be more graceful with myself as well as others—namely, my son who would require extra TLC for months to come. I no longer struggled to ask for help, I found it easier to set and enforce boundaries and I hardly experienced any guilt when I decided to run away from my children to take a shower instead of spending quality time with them. I learned how to ensure my cup was full so that I could give the best of myself to myself, to my family and the world at large.

I often get asked about the significance of ‘Kind’ in Kindfulness, and needless to say, without the part about being Kind, mindfulness wouldn’t have taken me to this place I am currently at, where I am thriving and truly feel happier, more at peace and more whole than ever before.